


The Measure of our Happiness

by MisLuminous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Awkward Castiel, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Oneshot, Short & Sweet, Shy Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 13:38:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4524069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisLuminous/pseuds/MisLuminous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He starts small. He starts with awkwardly slinging his arm around Dean's shoulders, even though it probably doesn't really count because he's seen Dean do it all the time with Sam, Kevin, Garth...even himself. It's friendly and comforting, but Castiel wonders what it might mean between them now.</p>
<p>Or the one where Castiel learns to become a person of details.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Measure of our Happiness

Castiel gets the idea from Charlie.

Or rather, he's sure that Charlie may have inspired him to be more curious about certain human things that he normally wouldn't have been very curious about. It's probably all the clumsy interactions with humanity he fumbles through, all that talk about personal space and the human limit, and how much his vessel can take- he can't help it if Charlie's enthusiastic inquisitiveness starts to bubble over on his end.

Castiel jumps to dedicate himself to science; relying on the familiar comfort that statistics, numbers, old literature and philosophy can bring him when he is conflicted or unsure. Emotions he finds himself feeling more and more when he simply shouldn't be feeling anything at all. But he makes a hypothesis and that should be enough.

He starts small. He starts with awkwardly slinging his arm around Dean's shoulders, even though it probably doesn't really count because he's seen Dean do it all the time with Sam, Kevin, Garth...even himself. It's friendly and comforting, but Castiel wonders what it might mean between them now.

Sure enough, Dean doesn't seem to notice. If he happens to lean a little closer then it's inconsequential and only because he just finished a hunt and he's tired. Castiel doesn't get tired though.

It doesn't count because Dean doesn't look the least perturb in pressing in close.

So Castiel's little experiment doesn't have the desired results, but for now he's okay with that.

The funny thing about being curious is that it becomes hard to satisfy. Castiel is curious, but he is almost not okay with this. Almost.

He steels himself, not because he doesn't want to do it, but because there is his own pride to consider. It's as much of a test on Dean's willingness as it is on his and he may have discovered a limit. 

They are in the middle of eating dinner in a small, greasy diner outside on the patio. It's going to be blatant and public and Castiel already feels that preemptive blush creeping to his ears.

With a silent count to three, he throws his leg across Dean's knee.

Perhaps there is a slight pause in chewing, and he definitely receives a raised eyebrow in return, but overall Dean looks sort of pleased with it, even if their neighbors clearly aren’t.

“Don’t be rude, you’re pushing Kevin off the bench,” Sam says, grinning, but Dean doesn’t move so Castiel ends up putting his leg down so Kevin doesn’t write rude Enochian sigils on his bedroom door in revenge. 

The next time they sit on a bench together Dean does the same to Castiel. Already it’s no big deal.

And already Castiel is curious about what would be a big deal.

*******

Castiel curls over Dean, resting his chin over his shoulder in an unplanned sneak attack from behind.

“Hey, D-“

Dean jumps, making Castiel's teeth clack unpleasantly, and he looks back at Castiel like he doesn’t know what to do. 

Castiel thinks he may have finally gotten to Dean up until the moment Dean finishes his drawn out “uhh?” and tilts his head to peck Castiel on the cheek, fleeting and brief, but somehow the light touch makes Castiel's eyes widen and heart pound in the most horrifying way.

Dean starts to look uneasy at the angel's silence.

“What? Not what you wanted?”

Cheeks burning red, Castiel slides off from Dean's shoulder. He glares at the ground, furious and upset because it’s his own fault, and mutters, “Wasn’t… expecting… that.”

Dean stares at him, exasperated. “You put your face this close to my face, and you weren’t expecting it? I don’t understand you. What did you expect?”

Castiel had never expected it to backfire like this. He puts a hand to his cheek before realizing Dean's assessing stare. Already cringing, he tries to abort the gesture, tries to turn it into a neck rub or anything else, but he can already tell by Dean's sudden smirk that he’s never going to live it down. 

“Oh, my god. You’re charmed. By me."

“Dean, don’t!” Castiel hisses, covering his face, but he can’t even retaliate any further because he’s so embarrassed and tongue-tied and Dean doesn’t stop giving him tiny kisses against his hands and somehow that makes it all the worse. 

“I make out with you for weeks and this is what gets to you?” Dean gives one last tiny peck on Castiel's other cheek and watches with unrestrained glee as the color continues to rise in Castiel's face. “I sucked you off the other day and you didn’t even look this flustered.”

“Because you’re bad at fellacio!”

Knowing that he’s won already, Dean only howls with laughter and punches his fist to the air in victory.

*****

For some reason handholding had always been one of the easiest things for them. Castiel supposes it’s their steady and sure grasps on each other, the way neither can hold back and how there is no misinterpreting a firm grip.

The hallway is empty and Castiel catches up from behind, footsteps echoing a familiar rhythm that Dean seems to recognize. Dean already has his hand out without glancing back. He doesn’t even look at Castiel, only ahead and complaining about chore duty at the Batcave and how a vampire slammed a piano into him in the morning hunt. 

Castiel looks at Dean's waiting hand, frowning, and curls a finger over Dean's pinky and hooks the tips of their fingers. It holds for a moment before slipping, but Castiel just tries the same delicate clasp again.

Dean's voice stumbles in mid-rant.

The balance is harder to maintain and they have to work on timing the gentle swim of their arms. It’s weirdly tentative when timidness has never suited either of them but Castiel supposes the challenge is a kind of intimacy that requires more deliberate care.

The secret, Castiel discovers, that less is more. 

Because Dean is a person of details, who can tell when Cas is near just by the sound of his footsteps or charmed by half a gesture, Cas still slings an arm around his shoulders, and this time he learns to tilt his head, far enough to bump gently against Dean's temple. That way, he can feel rather than hear Dean's breath catch and mouth move wordlessly, and Cas learns to be a person of details too. The next time Dean rests his legs over the angel's lap Castiel props his arms up over them and taps his fingers idly all throughout lunch, plays with the stitching on Dean's boots and lines of his pants without making a big game of it. 

And while Castiel still makes faces when given stupid tiny kisses, he rests his chin on Dean's shoulder and figures how to let Dean sense the vibrations of his laughter when he’s not making any noise and feel how his throat moves as he speaks privately into Dean's ear, even if it is just to mutter insults or something inane and unimportant.

Eventually Castiel does reach his limit, turning to Dean one day with his face flushed and pouting. Dean stares at him, confused.

“Stop what?”

Castiel opens his mouth, closes it, and lets out a distressed groan. “I don’t know! It’s that thing, things you…” and flings his hand up and down, indicating all of Dean in frustration.

“Right,” Dean says, unenlightened.

“I mean, how can you just, when you do things like-“ Castiel halts, unable to put to words of exactly what Dean does, because it is too many things at once, all little details that have quietly built up until neither Castiel nor Dean can discern them. 

There is silence as Dean waits for an answer and that, much to their dismay, is a kind of affection as well. 

And Castiel, at a complete loss for words, has no choice but to return it.


End file.
